Travel Clinics

This morning was absolute bullshit.

It started with the fence taking out the right side-view mirror in the middle of the night, which led to the mother becoming my ride to BMC and school.

Trees and streets were shit.

Traffic was shit.

Understaffed service at the travel clinic was shit.

Two and a half hours long appointment was shit.

Insurance not covering my visit was shit.

Paying out of pocket was shit.

And then came the car ride where I sat and got bitched for spending the way I fucking wish to. Yes, it was a fucking ridiculously expensive appointment, and yes, I am steadily emptying my bank account, but what other options do I have? In her eyes, maybe, just maybe, the risk of catching crippling Japanese Encephalitis along with a list of other rural diseases was a risk worth taking to save a few hundred dollars.

I told her I gladly paid for it with my own money because this was an investment worth making (it's my fucking health, and I'm not trying to die in Cambodia). Then she responded threateningly with, don't ever say that to me again, and said that there was no difference between my money and hers, that my money is her money. Fucking bullshit...I worked like hellllllll this past summer and fall, holding down my positions at OTL and Itadaki, on top of running the shop when she couldn't. I made excuses and dropped all shifts and commitments every time she told me she felt weak and needed me to watch the shop. I worked for the mother voluntarily without ever once thinking of the pay that I could've instead been making. (When he realized I was working three jobs, he said, "Damn, Kim. Three jobs for parents is struggling.") 

I've worked and saved in the summers to pay my own way through the months that I'm not working. I don't ask for money to go out, to buy gifts, to pay for college apps, to pay for gas, to get school shit, to go on school trips, to pick up groceries, to make donations. When was that money ever hers in any sense other than legal?

Out of my own determination and love, I saved up to give $300--100 for Chi Trang to take care of herself on her Asia trip, and 200 for Cau to put towards supporting his temple and orphanage. She was proud of me then and didn't at all object, but when I try to worry about my own health for a change, I'm suddenly the fuck-up who's wasting "her" money.

It's damn similar to how she treats Chi Trang...so fucked up. She gives her little respect and never the benefit of the doubt even after Chi Trang loaned Ma, Ba $xx,xxx. She still sees her as a child lacking all sense of responsibility despite the shittons she has saved up after years of precise planning. But the mother never ever goes off on Chi Hien for having close to nothing in her bank account. Such a double standard. Even more amazing is the fact that Chi Trang, no matter how pissed she gets under attack, never brings up that unpaid loan to humiliate the mother.

She told me that this is the last time I travel to Southeast Asia, which is fucking hilarious to me. There's less than a month before I'll never again need parental consent on life decisions. Does she not realize that she has absolutely no power over where I choose to go in the future? This legal hold on me of hers is pretty fucking finite because one day, I might join the Peace Corps, or return to India's Himalayas, or spend the entirety of my adult life in a developing country, serving a purpose greater than myself. And she'll have little to no say in whether I stay or go. And I will fucking pay for my damn vaccinations before I do go.

This morning and its fuckery reminded me 
of feeling 13 and the days I would leave without notice,
of years of feeling unsafe at home, 
of skateboarding till it was too dark to see, 
of why I love watching smoke swirl and sunrises,
of getting pierced, 
of getting tatted, 
of donating pieces of myself to feel whole, 
of lying. 

It's hard to feel this anger but remember that only weeks ago, I held her hands and pleaded for her blessings, to forgive me for leaving her and Ba for NYU. For months, I have felt only guilt and fear and gratitude, but for now I've misplaced those feelings.

I know it takes time for this hateful heaviness to subside, but it's disgusting that I'm even capable of this sinfulness.

Maybe more than anything, I'm mad at the fact that she could be right, that all my money really is hers because if I were to repay every dollar she's given to my name, I'd spend most of my life in literal debt to her, and figurative debt to her forever for creating my existence.

And I fucking hate that she still gambles with him. But that's a whole different issue...

4-5 AM on a Sunday Morning

We were speeding underground, the tunnel lights flooding everything in warm hues, his profile like a portrait in sepia. I wanted to photograph the shape of his cheekbones and the curve of his jawline as he stared straight at the road, remembering that every moment was fleeting and that physical documents sometimes outlived memories. 
As far back as then, I had wanted to be in Manhattan and told him so. He said he once wished for the same, once wanted to study engineering at some school with a name I can't remember and don't care enough to. But what I can't forget is what he said next...I had asked him why he didn't go, and he'd told me that his family needed him more than he needed his education. That his parents could have never paid all the bills had he picked up and left.
It was at that point that I felt selfish and small and awestruck and young and silly and full of shitty, upside-down priorities, with still so much growth ahead of me.
He was so handsome when we left the tunnel, the sunlight entering our eyes.

Every time I visit the ICA, I end up sitting in this one spot, one of my favorite places in the city, for at least 20 minutes, and I sit and remember everything that ever happened there, everything that creates the energy and magic I feel at that single spot.
The crumbs. The dark black cookie crumbs, Oreos I think, that coated his lips the way bits of asphalt spread across pale cement. The knees. The way the contour of his meat-less bony knees jutted through his dark jeans. How much I wanted to reach out and trace them. How much I wanted to trace all of him--his knees, his palms, the hollow spaces in his frame, the depth of his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose. I wanted his wide eyes to never leave mine, unless they were occupied with dreams.
Our arms were brushing, and I wish I could've felt his warmth more.
He told me about New York, about his court date, about sitting in a 24/7 McDonalds until the morning waned. It was the cheapest hotel they could find.
We talked about suicide, suicidal ideation. She bared to me the skeletons of her family, of her father, of all the devils that gnawed at her, at her arms. She told me that the shallow scars on her wrists had long since faded, that she had made the cuts deliberately shallow when she was insane but just sane enough. Her friend once grabbed her arm which made her squirm in pain, but even the closest never caught on. She buried the secrets deeper than the blade and, somehow, that made all the difference. It's been months since we've talked, but I rest easy knowing she saved herself.
One day, I'll bring a lover here, and I will know that my love is reciprocated and that what I'll have found is true and fair. I will know so long before I even dream of taking them into this space.

On nights like these, when I'm still awake at 4 am, I wonder about why I'm here.

My greatest joys have been the love I've given and the love I've received.

I once gave a Georgetown cupcake to a homeless man with a beat-up bicycle, who then told me, God bless you, dear. I wished then that I hadn't eaten the first one so that he could've taken two, while my friend sat devouring his second. 
We watched 21 Jump Street on the grassy banks of the pond while passersby passed us by with goofy stares. We were cute--we weren't together, but we were cute. I took note of that day and will most definitely recycle the plans when the time is right. That night, he told me about his first time and was surprised when I admitted I'd never fucked. 

Never have I found a reason to be wholeheartedly content with myself, and that is fine. It's probably why I dislike my own birthday celebrations so much. They're overindulgence to me. I just don't see sense in celebrating myself when everyday is already full of celebrations of life. Every breath, twiddle, ache, step, tingle, touch--they are all wonderful celebrations of the spirit, energy, life I've been granted. Why spend my time celebrating what I've been given when I can take that time to utilize my blessings and fulfill my commitment to others, serve my purpose?
Ma lived the first 20 years of her life never knowing the exact date of her birth, only believing that each year that passed had added to her age. If Momma didn't need birthdays, then why should I?

Mo Ba shared in hushed tones during breakfast that Trung was depressed about his girlfriend leaving, but that he had told her he would be fine if he just hung out and talked to me for the next week. She asked me in whispers to make sure I spend as much of my time with him as possible. I felt warm and fuzzy, remembering that Trung was my first best friend in this life. I miss him now and hope he's well and kind to his parents. All I really want right now is to fly back to be with family, to be Trung watching 30 Rock till we pass out, to wake up and make a boba run first thing in the a.m., to laugh at Trung's gibberish and "awww" whenever he talks about Jenny bittersweetly.
I feel like I'm always doing this...leaving when I'm still needed or when I'm happy. I don't mind letting go of happiness, but I feel guilt for unfulfilled responsibilities.
It was strange, funny, and comforting to talk to him about college and what I should look out for. He showed me some pretty kickass party mixes, told me to get some mace asap, and admitted he hates New York. He took the keepsake picture of Puppy I left him and beelined to his room to tack it onto his dry erase board above his desk, where only the special-est pictures go.

I wonder if I have, or ever will have, enough badass mental toughness to work at a psychiatric hospital.

I die a little inside every time someone jokes about rape. 

She's changing and I don't like who she's becoming, but I won't love her any less.

I'm really fucking proud of him, of his artwork, of his sense of self, of his honesty with flaws. 

I really fucking hope my crew comes up with me.

We texted till past 4 am about plans for when he's back--and just that, the act of making plans, got me excited for the adventures we'll soon have in the city.

I found the very first texts between AE! Andrew and I from back when I was 15. How young and innocent we both sounded, believing in infinity when forever is too often stamped with an expiration date. We kept repeating, One day...one day... I do miss him, miss him the way I miss happier times and Cali sunshine and having him feel so close even though he was so far. He came at the right time, with the right moves, with the right lessons for me. He empowered me in so many ways like I had never been before at that age, and for that I owe him big time. He was older but thought no less of me, felt enough like safety to make me enjoy being vulnerable. I thought he was my first taste of love. It's sad that we drifted and ended...I'm left with a number that I don't think is his anymore and a first and last name that gets me nowhere. I don't think I'll ever see or speak to him again, but that shit happens, I'm fine. I still have that tank top somewhere in my drawers.

It's 5 am and my reminiscing's going way back. My mind's restless even if my eyelids droop.

♥

Houston 2012

These have been wonderfully strange and strangely wonderful days.

Most moments...they don't even feel real. Just floaty.

We are all* in transitions, so it's thrilling to wonder about how all these paths will simultaneously unravel. 

(*almost all!)

Awesome is unreal. She puts every dog I've ever known, and probably will ever know, to shame. ♥ The girl jumps through hoops...literally. Like goddamn.

I'm feeling so much, and yet I can't seem to express these sentiments. I fumble with my phrases in conversation, tongue-tied, depend on backspaces and ink messes while waiting for my truths in words to finally arrive. There are ways to convey all the restless things inside me...I just haven't come across the lines that do these feelings justice, that make me re-feel this fuzziness when I read them to myself. 

Momma is not doing well. Momma is sad and still feeling ill. 

(I'm responsible.)

Momma also hates Awesome...

Awesome is an epic name.

Houston is kindness,
Her people warmer than suns.
Why am I so mean?

Eyes that see my soul
Her loyalty amazes
Slobbery type love

Loose Vietnamese men
Blame it on the alcohol
Karaoke night

These haikus are great
This shit goes straight to the heart
(Truth: these are poopy.)

I wrote on Wednesday (12/19/12) at 5:09 am,

"Not even 10 hours ago, I received the first college admission that elicited an emotional response beyond lightly disturbed numbness. Today, I felt for the first time as if my future had been revealed and/or determined (I'm not sure which...it could've been either). I felt for the first time that I had received an affirmation from the Universe. I felt for the first time the promise of exponential growth. Every ounce of myself that I had poured into this process at once ceased to feel as if it were all for naught--I finally could know something, hold something, show something for all these months and years of personal toil. Acceptance into NYU may not have solved my every problem in this world, may not have lifted every ounce of sadness I carry, but it has given me some lightness--lightness in anchorage. Now with a sense of stability and certainty in my future, an anchor, I feel as if I can float a little farther, float a little longer, float a little more worry-free. There's now one less trouble to deal with, and yet there are now so many more.
 

This is such a distinct sense of achievement that I'm really struggling to put into words. I feel Ba's warmth, but Ma's been asleep pretty much the whole night. I won't forget the electricity I felt at BonChon and Grant, Andrew, Bryan, and Y-Binh's excitement for me when I read the email on Y-binh's iphone...nor will I forget Ma's outward apathy and suppressed disappointment. Nor the feeling of content so quickly killed by nausea after seeing the financial aid statement. But Ba told me, Con will make it worth it, and dismissed the numbers as completely reasonable, telling me the opportunity was too good to pass up. To be honest, I don't know if I'm under-appreciating and over-stressing the financial deal I have by making comparisons, but I just know where I will be 9 months from now (not with a baby, I would hope...). And I do know for damn sure that I will pay my entire way through college, giving back every dollar Ma, Ba will initially help me with as soon as I graduate and make bank. I have 5 months left in high school, and I will bust my ass on shittons of scholarship apps, grinding just as hard if not harder than I have been. Senioritis is dead to me. One day of it was enough of a taste. I've the faintest belief in the future now, and just that faint belief is enough to push me to grind grind grind in preparation for my coming chapter.
 
I think this is 'happy', but there is still so much guilty and sad and heavy.

All this is so strange and humbling and warm and worrisome and liberating and stabilizing and...wonderful. I'm simply so blessed to have all the chances that I have, all the resources that I can use, all the people that I know, all the family that I love. Life is kind, and yet so very sick and dark."

♥

Mushy

Some of the warmest words any boy has ever messaged me...I'm beyond humbled by the love I've seen lately...

After a damn long time, I finally feel like I'm fully recognizing and appreciating the miracle of each moment again...Finally, I'm beginning to feel balanced, optimally gracious and grateful, and filled with a healthy melancholy calm. The hells haven't left me, but this piece of the battle is finished.

I believed, and I received...What greater affirmation is there of the Universe's path for me?

*

"This is about to be a little mushy, but idc, you know me....I'm really freaking proud of you. You deserve this and more (and believe me, there is so much more waiting for you). Over the last 4 years, you have simply amazed me.You're capacity to give is remarkable. You do so much for everyone you care about, yet you never ask for anything in return. Nor do you even expect it. But what astonishes me even more so about you is the way you demand respect. You carry yourself better than any girl I know...and it's not that nobody ever sees you sweat, it's that you don't try to hide the sweat. Your originality adds to that, nobody does anything like you...you are a very special person, not just to me, but in this world. You are extraordinarily extraordinary, and you have a lot of knowledge to share to the world. NYU is just the beginning."

♥

Restlessness

My thoughts keep racing, as they have been for a while now. They keep me up at night, keep me aching.

I have shit to be doing, but I'm not doing a good job of doing it...

I just wanna read poetry and Elie Weisel for dayssss...

I wish we'd had that flan party. I don't know why I wasn't more into him coming over at the time.

I have this weird potential plan to familiarize my parents with any of the guys I hang out with. That way, if they grow to trust them, having them over, going over to their places, and going out together wouldn't be such issues. It shocked me how chill they were when DeReK and Moh just chilled at home for hours. I'm hoping I can get that same response going, like with Sebas and his Rozzie neighbors.

We talked about how dope lust is, and then mermaids, and then animals, and then poop. He told me I have zero humor but that I'm ten unspecified units deep. He told me that he'd been feeling especially lustful the other day, and that if he had invited me over, he might've ended up doing something he'd regret...that came out of the blue and both surprised and confused me. What exactly would he have done??? It was an unexpected thing to hear, but it didn't matter much at the time. Now that I'm thinking back to it and our conversation, it's kind of weird/creepy as fuck, right?

I really don't mean to be a stalker, I swearrrrr, but...a photo he was tagged in came up on my newsfeed because some of our mutuals liked it, and I got kind of jealous at the fact that some Viet girl was all over him. She even profile pictured it, and it's no shot in the dark to say she's mad into him. But whatever, I'm being really dumb. Hahah, I don't even know the dude.

Friday night = nighttime holiday pics and dinner. I have mixed feelings about the plans. On the one hand, I miss them like cray and wanna spend time together, but on the other hand, I'm not looking forward to his presence. It already bothers me enough that he answers my texts for her without clarifying that it's him. She told him that if I don't like him, there is no she and him. It's endearing, but I know it can't be true at this point...and truth be told, my opinion of him is less than positive...

Actually, it's bordering on straight up shit.

Ugh, thinking about him forreal makes me consider coming up with other plans for my night...

It's strange to me how I can feel both unrelentingly hateful and unsuspectingly tender. In either case, I don't think I come across as extreme as I do in voiceless words.

Now, I'm gonna look at some more colleges to apply to because I'm silly as fuck and find some enjoyment in that.

♥

Family

She cried and left the camera window. It was the first time she'd heard any of our voices since June.

"Mommy, why are you crying? Because the make-up hurts? Beauty is pain!" (She's a smart girl.)

They'll be visiting in the summer. Two more reasons why I cannot fucking wait for time to pass and bring me to them.

Poor babies. She can't stop wearing the shirts we gave her.

Babies on the brain. My God.

♥

Damn

Is it wrong that I think she's being incredibly stupid? Is it judgmental of me to think the way she's handling herself is pathetic?

Maybe. And yes. But fuck...

I can't imagine how much emotional turmoil and vulnerability she must be going through, but I'm even farther from understanding how she can deliberately make the decisions that set her so fucking far back.

Finally saying enough was enough, having the courage to leave security for uncertainty, and reconnecting with her family were fucking huge steps--I was seriously so proud and happy for her. But now I just feel sick with pity. Somebody just please justify to me how fucking around and getting pregnant at this time can be a good thing.

I have nothing against her going after what or who makes her happy, but being worried as fuck, scared, unprepared, and refusing to take a morning after pill is just fucking dumb to me. And I'm disgusted that he's happy about all this. Just fucking sick to my stomach thinking about all these layers. It's not even my body, but I'm panicking for her.

Everything she's telling me is just so irrational. How she's scared of the test coming out positive, that abortion's not an option, and that she's not ready but will be if she has to be. The fact that he's happy makes her worry less about the future. Like, what the fuck, woman? She openly acknowledged that she'll only ever truly love him, but here she is fucking with another dude and potentially carrying his child. Five years with one did not result in a potential pregnancy, but a few weeks with another did. I'm just fucking pissed at the way this shit is going down. 

She already refers to it as "the baby."

It's dizzying.

I'm seriously losing all empathy. I'm not even trying to understand what she's going through anymore. I feel like she's not thinking clearly, but I'm also not in the position to make her decisions for her body or her life. Her blood family is, not that they're against a child coming.

She's scared of me hating her, and making this more difficult for her is the last thing I want. But I've spoken my mind, so there's not much left for me to say to her on the subject. I'm being judgmental and projecting her situation upon myself, then reacting to her how I would if it were me. But I'm still just so sick from this.

My mind's just been fucking blown too many times lately.

♥